


Generations

by Oyanachi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Based on a strip, Gen, Memories, Nationverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oyanachi/pseuds/Oyanachi
Summary: Adrien's looking for France whom he's met at the corner of a Parisian street. Who's Adrien? Oh, no one. Only someone who got the knowledge of their extraordinatry existence as his legacy.
Kudos: 5





	Generations

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Générations](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/739884) by Oyanachi. 



Adrien rushed out of the bathroom. Today was the day. He was sure of it. He saw him yesterday. Though he lost him quite quickly. But today, he won’t let him escape. He was within a hair’s breadth of solving this mystery.

“Adrien! What are you…” He kissed his wife cutting her off by the way.

“Sorry, Clèm’. I gotta go.”

He quickly left, excited.

Clémence sighed before glancing at the bathroom floor. She shook her head and picked up the laundry lying around. “At least, you could put your dirty laundry in the basket!” She shouted across the flat, throwing a binder quite angrily out of frustration in the basket.

She made her way to the entrance. Adrien was about to leave but she stopped him in his tracks grabbing his wrist. “Adrien, please, I don’t understand you lately. Why are you leaving so early every morning? Is it because of your work?”

“Yeah, work. A very important work. And I’m about to see the end of it. I’ll promise it would be soon over!” Adrien kissed her one more time on the cheek. Clémence couldn’t help but smile a little nevertheless. He grabbed a camera, a notebook where loose sheets were escaping, and his keys. Then, he finally left the flat for good and everything turned silent.

Clémence remained in the entrance, arms crossed, still looking at the door. She was hearing his steps hurtling down. She lowered her eyes and saw an old photograph on the floor. She took it and frowned. It was this kind of early century black and white picture that turned sepia over the time. Why was he so obsessed with those photographs lately? She wondered as she put gently the picture of Adrien’s ancestor with someone she assumed was a friend on the sideboard.

oOo

Adrien’s heart was beating as hell. He knew it. He could feel it. He didn’t lie to Clémence. He was about to solve this mystery.

He flown up the stairs out of the metro station and was overwhelmed by Paris life early in the morning. A ballet of horns was already playing. Terraces of cafés were already crowded. Heels were clicking on the pavement. And pigeons were already pecking cigarette butts and dust all over the ground.

Adrien jumped back when a bicycle rang at him and he apologized for jostling a stroller. As the mother and her baby where about to go down the stairs, he couldn’t help but take the time to offer his help.

“Thank you, sir. Those stairs are a nightmare…”

“Yeah. I really don’t understand why they never thought of an access ramp.”

“Maybe one day every station will at least have escalators” She sighed while adjusting her headscarf. They had reached their destination. The mother thanked him once again.

As soon as she left him, Adrien rushed outside once again and looked around. Alright, all clear. He hoped he didn’t miss him though. He bought today’s newspaper at the kiosk more by reflex than on purpose. He sat at a small table at the café with the best view and ordered the breakfast menu.

In the meantime, he opened his notebook and grumbled at the loose sheets he put back in place. He read over the last entry he wrote yesterday and still quite couldn’t believe it.

_May 2 nd, 1990. _

_8:43 Saw him at the junction of Saint-Honoré street and Louvre street. Exactly –EX.AC.TLY- looking the same as the 1865 pic._

He glanced back at the place. He didn’t want to miss him.

_Followed him to Saint-Jacques Tower square._

_9:01 Lost him… FUCK._

He looked up once again. Nothing to report. He grabbed his pen and diligently wrote today’s date.

_May 3 rd, 1990. _

_8:37 Starting where I lost him yesterday._

As he was looking around, Adrien tapped on the newspaper. He barely looked at the front page. Sometimes, he wondered why he still bought it although he didn’t read it at all. He thought it was to pass the time but as soon as he tried to read just a line, he was afraid to miss something. In the end, the newspaper was only here to look like he was doing something casual and wasn’t spying. No, he wasn’t spying at all. Not in the least... Adrien had to admit the newspaper thing was only here to relax him more than anything else.

A blond guy wasn’t really hard to miss though. French people were more often brown hair. He never understood why this man was blond then. But anyway it was convenient for him.

Adrien jumped when all of a sudden at the corner of the street a blond man in a blue three-piece suit with a Bordeaux silk scarf around the neck showed up.

It’s him!

Adrien gathered his things in his satchel. The photographs fell on the ground. “Shit.”

The waiter came while Adrien was under the table collecting the pictures. He put on the table a coffee, a croissant and the receipt, no smile on the face. Adrien almost banged the head in the table. He thanked him not averting his eyes from the blond man. He swallowed in one gulp the coffee. Hot as hell, it was burning his throat. He grabbed the croissant, paid right away with some coins. “Keep the change.” And then he left in a hurry.

He swore to god he wouldn’t let him out of his sight today. No way! He hurried even more.

He screamed inwardly though when he had to stop at the red light. The man was already on the other side. But it was way too dangerous to cross the road, especially in this area, if you were not doing so on a crosswalk and during green light. He gritted his teeth.

Not losing him, not losing him.

The blond man leaned on the railing. He daydreamed looking at the Seine River.

Perfect! Don’t move, just don’t move.

Adrien was losing patience. “Come on, green light, come on.”

But then the man left his spot, a hand sliding over the stones, and followed his path across the bridge.

No, no, no, no!

The light turned green. Adrien jumped on the road. Of course a car went through a red light and didn’t even slow down. Adrien had to hastily step backwards. He gave the car the finger and swore. Nobody took action whatsoever and eventually crossed the road.

Adrien then panicked. Shit! He lost him. The bridge! Please, be on the bridge. Hopefully, he would be still strolling.

There! Adrien sighed, relieved. There the blond man was at the other side of the bridge.

Adrien tightened his grip on the croissant he still didn’t eat a bit and hurried. He needed to know. He didn’t only want to talk with him, he wanted to understand. The legend has to come to an end and reveal its secrets. He had to gather all the proofs he could.

Unfortunately, as soon as he finally reached the Île de la Cité, the island at the heart of Paris where was Notre-Dame cathedral, the flow of tourists slowed him, even this early in the middle of the week. He could still see him though. Blond curls flying in the air, he was gently stepping forward, smoothly going through the crowd. How on Earth did he manage to do that?

“Wait!”

No matter how far Adrien could go, it always seemed the man was way ahead of him. He finally turned in a little street far away from tumult of the main road. There only were residents. Thanks goodness! Adrien could finally breathe. But no time to rest, the man was already hurrying up.

At the same time as walking, Adrien tried to turn on his camera. He almost made it fall down. The frame was shaking as he couldn’t stabilize the device.

They eventually got out of the buildings and came out on the quays before crossing a bridge. They were now on the Saint-Louis Island, not as famous as the other one, always in its shadow. Way more peaceful, less frequented, there was few people especially at this hour on a work day. And yet, Adrien was surprised how this man was walking fast.

The man disappeared at the corner of a street and, as he was scared to lose him once again, Adrien ran. When he got in the street, there was nobody.

“Shit.” He gritted his teeth.

Then, he caught sight of a wallet on the floor. He looked around but definitely no one. He took it and search for any papers with a name or anything else. Secretly, he was hoping for the impossible. There were many, many cards, a receipt lost in some coins and an old Polaroid. Yes! Perfect. It was his. It was the man’s wallet. He was along a black woman eating fishes in a patio surrounded by lush vegetation. Somehow Adrien couldn’t believe his eyes. It was his wallet. What a treasure he found! As the man was nowhere to see, he decided to head home.

At the third floor of a building, two women were looking at Adrien leaving.

“Poor boy. He’s trying very hard…” Monaco said wiping her glasses.

“Yeah. That’s not very nice of you, Francis.” Belgium turned to France who had just come in.

He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t understand what she was talking about. He took off his coat and put it on a peg before seating on an armchair next to Switzerland who gave him a judgmental glare.

“I just want to know how far this boy can go.”

“And get us caught in the way.” Switzerland grumbled.

“I know what you’re worried of. But I promise I won’t contravene our governments’ order. No human will ever know about us anymore.”

“Well, I wonder though how you’ll manage to do that since he took your wallet.” Monaco couldn’t help but smirked. The reaction she expected from France came right away. His eyes opened wide and he turned pale. France stood up all of a sudden and searched in all his pockets.

oOo

That maybe wasn’t very nice to touch somebody else’s stuff but Adrien couldn’t help. The wallet was about to release its treasures and tons of information he couldn’t have ever dreamed of.

Adrien was back at home. Clémence was now gone for work in La Défense and she wouldn’t be back before 6pm, even 7 or 8pm according to the traffic which was a nightmare during rush hour. He was sat on the couch, the wallet in front of him on the coffee table of the living room. He eventually bit into the croissant that was completely stunted. Then, he shook his fingers and opened the wallet. He spread the whole on the table.

Alright, here he goes.

Of course, there was the Polaroid. He looked at it for some time detailing every features of the man’s face. He had no idea who was with him but at least he couldn’t get the man wrong. There was a library card for… Nice? That was quite far away. A name was written on it: Francis Bonnefoy.

Really? How could he have this name? It sounded… weird for a French person. Well, why not? Adrien had no idea how they could have a casual name. Was the man born with it? Did he choose it? Did someone else chose for him? Adrien didn’t even know if those people were born like everybody. To slow down the flow of questions running in his mind, he left the library card aside and looked at the others.

A RATP card to take the transports in Paris but also a SEMVAT one, which meant Toulouse transports access as well, a TCC one for Lille, a RTM one for Marseille, a Bibus one for Brest… Clermont-Ferrand, Strasbourg, Pau, Limoges, Bordeaux, Nantes, Caen and so on… all of the cards were transport subscriptions. If that wasn’t a proof Adrien was on the right way to discover the truth! Who on Earth would have quite all existing French transport subscriptions in their wallet? The man even had an Air France membership card. Seriously who got that? Besides, that cost a lot. On all of them, he could see a formal picture of “Francis Bonnefoy” as it was written on each ones as well.

Adrien walked to the phone and grabbed the telephone book on the side. He went through the B pages, found a Josette Bonnefoy, a Marius Bonnefoy and a Véronique Bonnefoy. No trace of any Francis though.

He came back to the coffee table and looked at the content of the wallet spread on it. He then realized there was no credit card or identity card. No driver license either.

How could he find this man now?

He watched the shaking footage he shot with his camera, while he was running. He grimaced. It was really hard to really catch something. He slumped into the couch and sighed.

Adrien had to solve this mystery. He was so close to solve it. And then, he could show this to his father. Gathering all proofs he could, his father wouldn’t put in doubt his words anymore. And he especially wouldn’t distrust his own father anymore. This thought alone bucked Adrien up. No way could he let his grandfather down. He still had a week. He was going to use it wisely.

“Just you wait and see, Francis Bonnefoy. I’ll find you.”

oOo

The first day after, Adrien went back on the last spot he had saw him. But the man was of course nowhere to see. He tried to put himself in his shoes. What his life could look like? What those people could spend their day doing? Did they have a job? Or was it their job to be… whoever they were? Adrien wrote any thoughts he had on the matter, any questions crossing his mind.

But day after day, Adrien might well walk around in Paris, in famous places as much as in more casual and local ones, he didn’t find any trace of the blond man.

One evening though, as him and Clémence were eating the ratatouille can they reheated in a saucepan while watching at the news on TV, he froze. The journalist behind the screen was talking about the future events to come in the international political world.

That’s it!

Adrien dropped his fork in the plate, completely absorbed by the screen. Clémence raised a puzzled eyebrow as she looked at him turning the volume up.

That’s it: a UNESCO meeting here, in Paris. Adrien was sure of it. The man would be there. He knew his next location.

“Adrien?”

He jumped. “Yeah, honey?”

“Honey?” She frowned. He smiled as he didn’t know what to say. Clémence rolled her eyes. “Anyway. Give me the cheese platter, please.”

oOo

7 place de Fontenoy, 7th district, Paris. Here he was in front of the UNESCO building.

Adrien didn’t know when the meeting was supposed to begin so he left the flat at 6:45. Just to be sure. He bit into his apple turnover while looking from a bench at the entrance. The metal gate had been open since 7:30 and people with briefcases started to cross it since then. But he’d recognized no one yet.

He hoped the man wasn’t going to use another entrance. Adrien swallowed his mouthful.

Then, a woman showed up waving at someone else. She was wearing a suit and yet she had ponytails, which in Adrien’s opinion was a very bad choice for a formal international meeting. But what caught his eyes especially was that he recognized her. She was the black woman from the picture that was in the wallet.

Adrien jumped on his feet. Alright he only had one day left, no time to spy on anybody anymore. That was now or never. He must talk to those people and find Francis Bonnefoy.

As he was crossing the street, he saw a curly blond guy waving back at the woman and going to meet her. It wouldn’t take much for Adrien to think he finally found the man but that was definitely someone else. He was wearing glasses and looked a little bit broader. He reached them while they started talking to each other, exchanging trivialities.

Adrien stopped.

There was indubitably something French in the woman’s speech. And yet, he couldn’t quite catch what she was saying. But more surprisingly, the other ones was talking in English and yet none of them sounded disturbed to the least by the other’s language or accent.

Adrien was stunned.

As he was actually froze some meters away from them, they eventually noticed him.

“Hm… hello?”

“Are you lost? Or new?”

Both of them talked to Adrien in English but as he didn’t move, the man switched language. At hearing his accent, Adrien had no doubt. He jumped back. “Oh my god, I know! You’re Québec!”

The man’s cheeks turned red while the woman laughed up her sleeves. Then, the man sighed. “Why even humans mistake me?”

“You’re not the personification of Québec?”

The woman stopped laughing and looked at the man, way taller than her. He looked embarrassed. “Well, I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. Sorry.” Both mumbled some apologies while trying to get away.

But there was no way for Adrien to let them go. He finally got something. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, that was rude. I just need to meet someone. Please!”

They looked at each other, clearly not really sure of what to do. But then the woman couldn’t resist. “Who are you looking for?”

“Francis Bonnefoy.”

oOo

Adrien gulped. “Hello… Nice to meet you Mister… Bonnefoy, isn’t it?”

The man was in front of him, wearing a suit, his hair tied up with a bow. He wasn’t as tall as Adrien imagined it. So, that was France. That was his country. And that was a little bit odd to think of it. Now in front of him, Adrien was getting flustered.

“Mr Bonnefoy. Francis. France. Whatever suits you.” France smiled. “The only thing I’ll say is don’t tell anyone. Or we’ll be in big trouble if they knew we let another human know.” He winked maliciously.

“I… I will keep Mr Bonnefoy, if you don’t mind.”

“Alright! So, why did you want to meet me so badly you managed to convince Annette and Matthew to bring you here?”

Adrien blinked. Oh, he should be talking about the two people he met at the entrance. “Well, I… I know what you are. I mean, who you are, sorry.” He took out of his satchel his notebook and grabbed an old picture. “Do you remember this by any chance?”

France took the photograph and looked at it for a while, softly smiling. It’s been such a long time. More than a century. Their memory wasn’t working as humans’ one but he still remembered it. He took picture with lot of people, either they were fellow personifications or they were officials, but they were few with an average human. Besides, that was still the beginning for photography then.

Somehow he remembered this young man on the picture and the exact circumstances of their meeting. The young man was looking at a studio front, fiddling his hat he had in his hands. He looked like a simple man of modest wreath but was clearly intrigued by those cameras and portraits presented on the display stand. France couldn’t resist and struck up a conversation. “Wonderful invention, isn’t it?”

The young man jumped and apologies right away for what he considered rudeness. “I didn’t mean to block your sight, sir.” He stepped backward not looking at France. At first, France didn’t understand why, until he caught sight of his own reflection in the glass. Wearing the finest style at the time, he looked neat and tidy as a middle-class man and was playing with a cane.

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry about that. I was looking at your enthusiasm.”

“My enthusiasm? I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”

“Would you like to try taking a photograph?”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m afraid I can’t afford such an extravagance.”

France swept the air with his hand. “Worry not, young man. Would you oblige me and take a photograph with me, then?”

There was such a time when no one gave them the order to avoid human’s contact as much as possible. There was such a time when France was still wandering around and stopped to talk with whoever crossed his way. Some ones decided the personifications they were had to be a myth and so the legend began.

France shook his head as to be back in the present time. The boy was still looking at him, nervously. Somehow, he looked a little bit like the one he met decades ago.

“The man with you on the picture.” Adrien said. “It’s my great-great-grandfather.”

France opened his eyes wide.

“And ugh… you have also met my grand-father during World War One, but… I don’t have any pics about that. He just told me when I was younger.” Now that he started, Adrien needed to let everything out. “At first, I didn’t believe him. But then, when we had to sell the house in Melun, I discovered this old picture while cleaning up. And it matched the description my grandfather used to tell me. So, I started wondering. When I gave it to him, my grandfather cried. Seems like it was full of memories for him. The war, his own grand-father, you… quite everything, I suppose. Besides, as long as I can remember, no one ever believed him when he talked about that. They… well, me as well, we thought it was just senility. I felt bad not trusting him just because, you know, when we’re old I suppose no one listens to us anymore for real. Well, maybe you don’t know since you don’t seem to age but…” Adrien looked up and caught sight of France’s look.

He was astonished and was frowning. And yet, Adrien could clearly see a lot of emotions in France’s eyes. None of them said a word for a while. France looked again at the picture.

“That’s a beautiful story.” He eventually said. “But I’m sorry I don’t remember your grand-father.”

Adrien shrugged. “It was expected. I mean, you’ve been living for centuries. I suppose you met lot of people over time.” He coughed. He didn’t know how France would react to his request but he had to ask. “I have something to ask you though.”

“What is it?”

“I would like for you to meet my grandfather.” As France grimaced, Adrien rushed to add. “Please, Mr Bonnefoy! That’s the last chance I have to tell him I’m sorry I didn’t believe him sooner and that he’s not crazy! My family had decided to send him back in Gordes, where he was born, to spend the rest of his life. He’s taking the train tomorrow and, old as he is, he’s never going back in Paris. Please, Mr Bonnefoy! I just want to grant my grandfather’s last wish. Please.”

France looked through the window for a solid minute, thinking again and again about the orders the personifications and especially nations received lately. He hated it. It had always been his pleasure to meet and talk with humans. He had always liked to be close to them. When he got back to Adrien, the boy was looking decided and yet a little bit worried as well.

“Is there a ship that can go without any wind?”

Adrien didn’t quite get France’s reply. “Is that a… yes?”

France smiled. Adrien burst out of joy. He couldn’t help but throwing himself at France and vigorously shake his hand. He couldn’t thank him enough and repeated the word again and again to the point France laughed. He patted his shoulder. “Now, if you will excuse me. I have a meeting to attend.”

“Yes, sure, no problem. Oh, thank you, Mr Bonnefoy!”

They exchanged further information to be able to meet each other next day. France gave him the address of a café. Then, Adrien looked at France going away when he realized he forgot something really important. He ran after him. “Ah! Mr Bonnefoy, I have your wallet!”

oOo

Next morning, Adrien was humming a cheery tune on his way to his parents’ house. He was bouncing, a large grin on the face when he rang at the door. His mother opened. “Amand-Sorry, I promise I’ll get use to it, I swear!” She coughed. “Adrien, so glad to see you, sweetheart.” She kissed him on both cheeks.

“Nice to see you too, mom. Is grandpa awake yet?”

“You bet he is. He’s on his way to the train station with your father already.”

Adrien crumpled. “What? But isn’t the train this afternoon?”

“At first, yes. But there’s a strike going on and some trains has been delayed or canceled. You know how it is. So, we change his ticket. Didn’t your father called you?” His mother perfectly understood her son had no clue about it. She gasped. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” She glanced at the clock. “If you hurry, I’m sure you can see him before he leaves. There, take the bike!”

Adrien jumped on it and pedaled at speed light. When he reached the Gare de Lyon, he left the bike falling on the ground. Some people looked at him, puzzled. The station was crowded as hell. He looked at the departures, saw the platform announced for the train for Avignon and he ran to it. He eventually caught sight of his father and his grand-father in his wheelchair. A staff was about to help him getting in the train. Adrien hurried up.

No. Fricking. Way. He hadn’t done all of this to end like that!

“Stop!”

Adrien grabbed his grandfather’s wheelchair, turned it over, while his father was looking dazed and barely recognized his son. “Sorry, Dad! It’s too important!”

“Wait, what… Adrien?”

But Adrien was already running away with his grandfather in his wheelchair. He rushed out of the train station, asked for a taxi and gave the driver the address.

That was going to cost an arm and a leg but who cares! That was for his grandfather.

Grandfather who looked astonished besides him. “Adrien? What are you doing?” Adrien took his hand and gently tightened it. “It’s a surprise, grandpa. I really wanted to give it before you go.”

Later, the taxi stopped in the 6th district. Adrien paid, suffering inwardly at seeing the price. When the car left, he breathed in and out, and then drove his grandfather to the café they had an appointment.

He was already there, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He put it on the table when he caught sight of them stopping in front of him.

When he saw his blond curly hair, the beard, and the blue eyes, Adrien’s grandfather froze. He moved his hands forward, shaking. “Mr France.” He mumbled, eyes full of tears. “It is you, Mr France.”

France took his hands, smiled and nodded. “I have to say, your grandson is quite stubborn.”

The old man laughed and cried at the same time. “He’s the very picture of his grandfather!”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been months and months, even a year at this point, I wanted to write this story. It's directly based on a strip, "Though I May Depart, You Shall Remain" (http://hetarchive.net/vais/), also the 5th episode of The Beautiful World. The one about France and this French guy talking to him and trying to understand who the nation is.


End file.
